Love of the Sea
by hnweatherford
Summary: Annie Cresta and Finnick Odair: a love that transcends pain, hope, and victory.
1. Chapter 1

"Swim, Annie, dammit, swim!" Finnick screamed at the TV in the district 4 apartment in the Capitol. Ever since Matthew's death, no one could take Finnick away from the TV. Not Mags, not Peacekeepers, not an Avox or Snow or any one of those high-pricing citizens that loved his tanned skin. Finnick swore that Snow could allow anyone to pay for Finnick—only if Finnick could follow Annie to her end. Whether or not her end meant death, Finnick had to watch.

The jabberjays were playing Matt's death over and over again. Horrified, Finnick watched Annie scream back, tears rolling down her face as she kept on swimming. The flood, without a doubt, was a Gamemaker's ploy to let Annie win. As sadistic as they were, the Gamemakers were smart. No one in any of the districts would have flooded an arena with a District Four tribute still alive and wanted someone else to win. Only if she was able to withstand the time…only if she was able to withstand…

A fight was breaking out and the Gamemakers took the cameras off of Annie to a battle between the girl from eight and the boy from one. Not caring if either died, Finnick made any call he could think of to get Annie a sponsor. There were dozens of people that 'adored' Finnick enough to pay the money for Annie if they could get a discount on a session with Finnick. It was a price he was willing to pay.

Two hours later, the camera still not back to Annie, and a list too painfully long of people that were waiting on Finnick, he made the order for rope for Annie. There was no point in giving her food when the flood could damage it. A rope, every District Four citizen's best friend, was help to her.

Sometime late that night, the cameras were back on Annie. She was still swimming. By that time, she only had two tributes to outlive—the boy from one and the girl from two.

"Please, Annie…just a little longer, Annie…please," he pleaded with the screen. She couldn't hear him, but Finnick prayed that she at least knew he believed in her. Did he do enough to tell her that when she was training? Did she know that she was the first tribute that Finnick mentored that he bothered attaching to? She had to know…she had to know.

Mags came in some time in the early morning with a glass of water. He sipped it…it was sweet. Syrup. Damned old woman…

He woke up that night. It was just Annie and the boy from one…he wouldn't make it a few hours if Annie could just stand it a little longer. Mags was studying some sort of book about something or the other next to him on the couch. There was a bowl of soup in front of him.

"Thanks," he muttered and picked up the bowl of soup, sipping it half-heartedly. Annie was so, so close to winning. So close. Back in District 4, there was nothing special about her at all to Finnick. He knew her name and she lived near the coast like he did, but that was it. Then there was the night of the opening ceremonies when Finnick was talking with Mags and Annie had snuck up on him. She was so incredibly radiant...From that moment on, Finnick fought for Annie's life.

The cameras couldn't keep away from a death. The boy from one died by losing his strength, being pulled under by the weight of the water, and hitting his head on a rock.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have a victor of the 70th Annual Hunger Games! Annie Cresta!" Claudius Templesmith's voice boomed. She won. She won!

Finnick stayed awake to wait for Annie to come back to the Capitol. When she arrived, Finnick was there waiting for her. Annie was still screaming…Finnick was pushed away, no matter how he fought. He had to arrange things with her stylists and prep team for her post-game interview. The second Finnick was free, though, he found Annie. She was shivering, staring blankly in a dress of blue and green gradient satin. Finnick sat across from her on her bed.

"Annie?" he whispered softly. Annie looked up at him.

"Annie?" he repeated.

"I'm sorry…I'm sorry," she said in a meek voice.

"No, Annie. Don't be sorry."

"I should have done something…"

"You would have died if you had," he whispered.

"I…I…I…Finnick…" she choked out. Finnick nodded and offered a hug for her. She crawled into his arms, still shivering.

"Annie, you're safe. It's okay. You're safe. Just a few more days and you'll be home."

"I should have…" she manically kept saying, repeating and repeating over and over again. Finnick stayed there, holding her close. Eventually, her shivering stopped she looked Finnick in the eyes. He held her gaze.

"How long did I swim?" she asked. Finnick looked into her deep, deep eyes. The perfect color of seaweed.

"Eighty-one hours," he said back. Annie nodded.

"Why did you give me rope?" Finnick paused at her question.

"If you had to stop swimming, you could tie yourself to a tree branch and collect your strength. Or if you could manage to catch a fish…If I could give you only one thing, it could help you the most."

"Why me?" she whispered again. Finnick sighed, unable to hold her gaze for the answer to this question.

"I had to save you. You had to be saved," he whispered. There was silence between the two of them. After awhile, Annie weaved herself back in his hug. Finnick stayed like that for a long while.

When it was time for her interview, Finnick and Mags stayed watching anxiously. Mags handed Finnick something just before Annie went on stage. A water-logged rope. He smiled at her thankfully and aimlessly tied knots in it as Caesar attempted to get an answer out of Annie. She said absolutely nothing and stared blankly at the crowd and at Caesar. They were forced to go straight into the recap of the Games. Annie didn't say anything, but began to cry silently and shake her head as they replayed Matthew's decapitation. When it ended, Annie looked like the poster child for madness. They ushered her off the stage. Finnick found her immediately and without even offering, Annie wrapped her arms around him tightly. She never let him go.

The Gamemakers released a statement saying that Annie had gone insane. Finnick knew it wasn't true, she was just suffering from watching her friend die so brutally, but maybe they would give her space. In reality, it would be the exact opposite. As long as they could before it would 'seem inhumane', they would keep the cameras on Annie, hoping for a show.

That night, Mags, the prep team, Finnick, and Annie were sitting on the couch of the District Four apartment, the night before Annie would be crowned and they would board the train for home. She fell asleep with her head in his lap. Finnick refused to move…until Snow came in.

"Finnick…" he ordered. Finnick looked down at the sleeping Annie, then Mags. Carefully and slowly, Mags took Finnick's place. Steadily, Finnick walked to Snow, resisting the urge to gag at the deathly scent of blood and roses.

"How many and how long?" Finnick asked through clenched teeth.

"Twelve. For that many hours. There are another thirty-eight that you will see during Annie's Victory Tour," Snow said simply. "Remember, you are doing a service to Panem, Finnick. Don't resist or there will be repercussions." Snow looked over to where Annie was sleeping. Finnick understood. Sighing, he followed Snow out of the apartment.

That morning, feeling a type of disgusting that could never be washed away by water, he walked into the apartment. Mags was sleeping where he had left her. Annie was fast asleep. Amazingly, she looked peaceful. Finnick hoped that she wasn't having any nightmares…Or maybe Mags slipped her something. Either way, he was grateful she was getting a good night's sleep. He wouldn't get one for weeks after that many women.

Finnick picked at some sort of breakfast pastry until Annie woke up. She blinked, then looked at Finnick, confused.

"I had to go somewhere for a little while last night. Mags took care of you. I hope you don't mind," he said gently. She didn't have to know about where he went. Annie nodded.

"Are you hungry?" he asked. She nodded again. He handed her half of his pastry. She took it with a small smile.

"You have a nice smile, Annie," he said softly. Annie blinked at him and crawled over next to Finnick. He wrapped one arm around her shoulders.

She didn't start shivering until she had to leave him. When she was crowned, she looked down at the floor the entire time. Finnick felt like his entire chest was aching, watching her like that. He was on stage with her, but not allowed to go near her. When they all were escorted off, Annie held his hand. No matter the cameras that saw, Finnick wouldn't let go of her. That night, Finnick was on the phone with Snow, trying to bargain Annie not having to mentor. It meant a lowered price on Finnick, therefore more women, but he didn't care. When he was done, he stayed in his room until Annie came in. Silently, she crawled on the bed with him and rested her head on his chest. He stroked her hair until she fell asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Sunsets. Sunsets that transitioned into stars—aside from the ocean, Finnick was always in love with those. He sighed and sat on the dock, salt sticking to his skin that he hadn't bothered to wash off.

Annie.

Mags had said it was love. Finnick didn't know. He ran his hand through his messy hair, looking out as the sun stained the blue ocean a gradient of pink, orange, and yellow. Finnick had missed home. The ocean crashing over the rocks—a peace no amount of sugarcubes could bring him while he was in the Capitol.

Soft footsteps padded behind him. He looked behind him to find Annie. He smiled at her and she gave him the same half-smile she always did.

"Hey, Annie," Finnick said gently. Everything was gentle with Annie. Unlike the rest of Panem, he knew she wasn't mad. Few people believed him—but she was too normal around him to be crazy.

"Hey, Finnick," she said quietly. Carefully, she sat next to him and held her legs close to her chest.

"How are you, Annie?" he asked as he looked over at her, letting his own legs fall over the side of the dock. She shrugged and looked out at the ocean. Finnick followed her gaze, and then went back to Annie.

"Do you want to swim, Annie?" he asked softly. Her green eyes widened in fear, but he could see the longing in her eyes.

"Yes…but…I…" she stammered out. Finnick nodded.

"You're scared," he finished for her. Annie nodded in reply. Finnick stood and offered her his hand. After a moment or two of staring at it, she took it reluctantly. As they walked off the docks, she laced their fingers together and squeezed his hand. Some space in Finnick's chest warmed.

He led them off the dock to the shore line. His toes sank down deep in the soft sand.

"If you don't want to, Annie, you don't have to. You don't even have to swim. You can just put your feet in the water," Finnick said calmly, reassuring her. "I'm here for you, Annie." Annie looked up at him and nodded. Finnick carefully took a step forward, letting their feet barely hit the tide of the water when came up. Annie shivered, but it wasn't how she shook when she was scared. Something in her eyes brightened. Finnick took another step and Annie followed him. They kept walking, slowly but carefully, until the water was nearly to their waists.

Annie stayed staring out at the ocean. Finnick thought that was as far as she was going to go until she took her hand from his and dove into the water. He watched her swim until she surfaced some amount of feet away from him. Finnick smiled at her and swam out to her.

"I missed this," Annie said as they treaded water next to each other.

"Thank you, Finnick," she said with the widest smile Finnick had ever seen. Before he had the chance to answer, she was back under. Finnick followed her down. Annie swam carefully through the brightly colored coral as Finnick followed behind her. Fish would change paths as Finnick and Annie would dart through, the both of them smiling under water. Annie's dark ebony hair cascaded behind her beautifully, the salt and sea water refracting light through it, making it look as if she was glowing. She glowed to him…

After swimming for nearly an hour, Finnick and Annie retreated to the sand. She let her head rest in his lap and Finnick ran his fingers through her wet hair, trying not to hurt her when his fingers would hit a tangle in her hair. Annie looked like she was in a dream as they sat there. Neither of them said a thing, but Finnick could tell Annie was happy. He didn't want to ruin anything with blabbering on.

Another hour or two later—Finnick didn't care about the time then—Annie was fast asleep on the sand. Finnick stayed there, not wanting to disturb her. After awhile, someone walked up to them. It was Annie's father. He looked at her wet hair and damp clothes, then to Finnick.

"Did she?" he asked incredulously. Finnick nodded.

"Nearly an hour," he whispered. He didn't want to wake her up. Her dad smiled gratefully at Finnick.

"Thank you. For saving her life…I know she's changed—"

"She's perfect," Finnick cut him off. Her dad said nothing but nodded.

"Can you bring her home for me?" he asked. Finnick nodded. As if Annie was the most precious thing in the world, Finnick picked her up in his arms. She seemed so light, so fragile…

Annie's father led the way to his new home in the Victor's Village and Finnick followed dutifully. Her father opened the door to Annie's room for Finnick, and he set her down carefully. A small piece of hair had fallen in Annie's face. Softly, he pushed it behind her ear. He sat by her, not wanting to leave her. Ever. Though, the clock by her bed warned Finnick otherwise. There were calls to rich Capitol women to make.

Silently, Finnick stood. He looked at the sleeping Annie, then leaned down and kissed her forehead. His chest ached to stay there, but Finnick couldn't. Snow's warning of consequences haunted his every moment.

Finnick was walking out the door when he heard Annie's mother say something.

"Oh, Annie's shivering…Someone go get her a blanket," she said. Finnick bit his lip, fighting the urge to go back and hold her like he did that night on the train back to District Four. He hated himself for it, but he had to walk away.

Sometime around three in the morning, when Finnick was done with every call that he had promised for that night, he was getting ready for bed when he got another call.

"Finnick? Are you there?" It was Annie's father.

"Yeah…what's wrong?"

"I'm sorry if I woke you up, but it's Annie. She woke up screaming and no one can calm her down and she's asking for you."

"I'll be right over." Finnick hung up the phone and was running over to Annie's house in the same second. He could hear her screaming while he was still houses down.

Finnick was let in by Annie's mom and he ran down to her room where her dad was trying to calm her down. The second Annie saw Finnick, though, her screaming stopped and she started to shiver.

"Annie, you're safe," Finnick murmured as he sat down next to her. Annie flung her arms around him, still shivering. With his heart breaking, Finnick hugged her back.

"You're safe, Annie," he cooed. She shivered for a long while as Finnick whispered in her ear carefully, trying to calm her down. Nearly an hour later, she stopped shivering, though still clung to him. Her father had left long ago…Annie looked up at him.

"Why? Why you? Why do you make it stop?" she whispered; her voice was breathy as if she was holding back an ocean of tears.

"I can't answer that, Annie," he said, wishing he could give her a better answer.

"Why did you come?" Finnick paused and rested his cheek on top of her head. He came for the same reason he fought for her life in the arena. Finnick had just thought she was aware of how much he cared…

"You don't know, do you?" Finnick felt as if his chest was aching. She had to know. How could she not know?

"You can't come if you're not going to stay…You need to stay…Finnick, don't ever leave, I can't…I can't…don't leave," she choked out before beginning to cry. Finnick rocked her in his arms soothingly, hushing her and stroking her hair.

"I don't want to leave, Annie," he whispered after a long while. She looked up at him and rested her head on his shoulder. He rested his cheek on top of hers.

"I won't leave you, Annie. Not ever."


	3. Chapter 3

"Mags, Annie is tiny. She's fragile. The most we could ever hope for is a six or a seven. The same from Matthew. They're too young, I swear it. They're too young, too naive-"

"You were only fourteen, Finnick. Don't forget that," Mags warned. "Annie is strong-she's the strongest swimmer of the girls her age. Matthew is more of a brute strength, but they still have a chance."

Only fourteen.

How could he forget?

How could he forget his glorious Reaping Day for the merciful and generous Panem and its Hunger Games?

He glared at Mags. She knew full well the weight of her words and what they would do-_You didn't have a chance, either, Finnick. But, you played the game of the Capitol just as you were playing the Games in the Arena._

"Finnick?" A sing-song voice sung to him, teasing gently with her own young age, but still quivering with the child only days away from death. He turned, expecting to see his Tribute.

He turned and saw his entire life before him.

"What do you think?" Annie asked. Her black hair-red was far too simple to describe how it gleamed, really-was constructed with ribbons of blue and green, flowing and woven to move seamlessly over her shoulders as if the ocean itself was cascading over her body.

And those eyes. Her eyes unwound him completely-their dark green color was highlighted by the makeup of her prep team. They were calling to him like an outstretched piece of seaweed in the ocean that Finnick would swim through.

Years later, he'd be asked about Annie.

"She crept up on me."

And Annie had crept up on him with a tap on the shoulder and a beautiful voice that rewrote the meaning and worth to his existence.

"Perfect. The Capitol will love you."

She had to live.

Finnick never slept now. It was not like he ever got an abundance in the first place-between the nightmares and calls to the Capitol, if Finnick slept before dawn, it was truly a miracle.

Now he spent every waking second at Annie's side. While her family tried their hardest to aid their daughter, Annie endlessly turned to Finnick. After a couple of nights of her banging on his windows, shaking and sobbing in panic, Finnick would put her to bed, leave for the calls, and get back to sleep next to her. Her parents didn't complain about Finnick; it kept the screaming at a minimum.

After nodding off for the third time in a conversation with Mags, she hit him over the head.

"Mags!" he frowned, rubbing at his temple.

"You need sleep, Finnick," she scolded.

"I can't. You know that, Mags," he swallowed, looking up at his mentor and the closest thing to family.

"You have to. For her. She thinks you're spending all eight hours at night next to her. You just got the timing right with the calls. She's completely swarmed by her pain, but Annie will figure out you are getting a lot less sleep than you should be. You have to tell her before her Victory Tour, Finnick," Mags urged. She reached for his hand and squeezed it. Finn looked up and into her pleading eyes. She was right. She was right, but Finnick didn't know how to tell Annie how he had no control over his body or who touched it.

Whimpering started from the other room. Finnick shot up from the table and darted for the guest room Mags allotted for Annie and Finnick to stay in. She had just laid down for a nap. Finn only left for fifteen minutes to speak with Mags. She usually could sleep at least an hour or two before the nightmares started.

"Annie, Annie, I'm here," he whispered, enveloping her in his arms. She woke with a jolt, her body stiff as steel. Her hands reached out for Finnick, reaching for proof that her reality consisted of Four and not of Matthew's rolling head.

"You're here?" she trembled.

"I'm here," Finnick repeated. Minutes later, Annie's breathing steadied and she was still again.

"You're here," she mumbled, moving his confirmation around in her mouth to test the taste of his promise.

Oh, what was it? How long did they lie there? It was long enough to watch the sunset together, and long enough to start to feel hunger in his stomach. Neither experience was unfamiliar and both were welcome enough.

"When is the last time you ate, Annie?" he asked quietly with a caress to her hair. Still soft. Still inky and dark and shining just as much as she had the night of her parade.

"I-I..." If Finnick was correct, it was yesterday.

"C'mon, Annie. Let's get some food in you," he encouraged, sitting up to guide her to stand. He held her hand to help her walk, though as days passed, her footsteps were gaining confidence.

Mags, like the psychic the woman was, had soup sitting at her counter. Distant singing told Finnick she had left to give Annie privacy. Annie trusted Mags, but it still was not much reassurance.

Slowly, Annie ate. It took her a half hour to eat a half bowl of crab soup. Finnick finished his quickly, but stuck by Annie's side as she struggled with her nerves.

"It's okay, Annie. It's okay," he murmured over and over again, over and over, over and over. He reheated it twice for her. Still, she said nothing. Still, she mostly stared at the bowl instead of eating from it. About two hours later, the soup was finished and her eyelids were drooping. Wordlessly, he lifted her like air and took her back to her room. Once the moon was at its highest point in the sky was when her body relaxed into sleep.

And was right around the time breath was stolen from Finnick's lungs. He tore himself from Annie's arms and into a separate room. He stared at the phone and his list of lovers. He stared at the list and could feel his skin crawl with the touches from the many lovers of the Capitol. His body ached as those long, physical nights seared deeper into his consciousness. And he couldn't breathe.

Mags found Finnick breaking down, sobbing, hyperventilating in his own pain. She held him close as he shook.

"I c-can't call them, Mags. I can't tak-ke it anymore. I want out, Mags. I want out so badly and I can't get out because he'll kill her and kill you and I _just want out_," he wept. He wept for Annie and he wept for Mags and he wept for the fake flirtatious mask he wore every second in the Capitol and every second on that phone. All Finnick wanted was out. All Finnick wanted was to go back to Annie and help her regain her identity.

All he wanted was out.

"You have to, Finnick. I'm so sorry," she murmured, rocking close. He was already close to ten minutes later. But every time he looked at the phone, all he could feel was his throat close off, tightening around the words the Capitol elite were paying to hear.

The longer he waited the higher the risk was that Annie would find out about him being bought into slavery.

A secret. Maybe out of these countless secrets he was pain in, out of the words that were never meant to be shared, he could help Annie. Maybe, one day, he could help them all with one of those secrets.

People killed and died for secrets. Maybe one day a secret would save them all.

With a shaking hand, still clinging onto Mags, Finnick dialed the first number.

"It's about time, Mr. Odair," a high-pitched voice, shrill and metallic, spoke into the phone. Finnick winced.

"I'm so sorry, my love. I just couldn't find it in me to pick up the phone, thinking of your beauty." If there were an Acting Games, Finnick would be the Victor.

"Oh, dear. Now whatever will we do about that issue?"

"Hmm. I am so sorry I cannot be there, but travel is expensive. Can my voice not suffice for your needs?"

"Love, dear love, dear, sweet, tender love-you know I love you. You know I always will."

The lies he fed for the secrets he received made him sick, but finally, the calls were done. The phone dropped out of his phone and harshly banged against the desk he sat at.

"Sleep, Finnick," Mags whispered.

"How did she do this to me?" Finnick mumbled, staring past the room they were in and into his own void, his own world.

"Finnick?"

"How did she do this to me?" he repeated, shaking his head. "All she had done was tapped me on the shoulder. And Mags, I swear, right then and there, I vowed to protect her life. And now I can't get her out of my head and every time she screams, I find myself wishing for a hundred other Games just so she would never have to scream like that. She cries and my day changes and she smiles and my life changes all over again. For her. For her." A pause. A breath. A pause to revel in the memory of the last genuine smile he remembered of her. The last smile she gave that wasn't stained with the blood of her fellow Tributes.

"And going back to the Capitol used to be so easy. I could forget. I could forget I'm human and I'm mortal and that I feel pain. And now I can barely hold myself together long enough for phone calls. What am I going to do when I have to face those Capitol murderers in person?" he begged, turning back to Mags with glassy eyes.

"Finnick, you're a warrior. You not only fight in the game, but you play and test it. You rewrite the rules to save yourself. You'll survive," Mags sighed, patting his shoulder before standing.

"You're wrong." Mags looked back at Finnick.

"I can't just save myself anymore. I have to save her. All for her."

Mags didn't reply.

Finnick returned to Annie and clung to her frail body; this time, to hold himself together from falling apart. Falling apart wasn't an option. Not when Annie was on the line.


	4. Chapter 4

"Mr. Odair."

"President Snow."

"I received a poor review from a recent buyer, Mr. Odair. You are usually so full of life. Where has your personality gone?" Snow asked. Finnick gritted his teeth and attempted not to break the phone. Snow, with the slick voice of a snake, froze his spine and sent his stomach rolling with nausea. The caresses of his many "lovers" turned into spiders feeding on his flesh.

"Careful, Mr. Odair. Careful. Are you still on the line, Finnick?"

"Of course, President Snow," he replied, voice cutting like steel. Voice cutting like the scratches of his customers.

_Of course, President Snow. Of course. Are you watering your perfumed roses enough to cover the stench of poisoned blood?_ Finnick wanted to say. He wanted to call Snow out on his treachery, his deceit, but he'd be writing his death sentence at best. At worst-Annie's.

"Good, Finnick. Be careful with your hospitality. Their happiness controls yours." _Click._ Finnick, with breath fresh from his lungs, slammed on the phone. And in frustration, he screamed. In pain, he screamed. He screamed because he could never spare himself to spare her. As much as Finnick wanted to avoid it, Annie's Victory Tour was nearing closer with everyday. As much as Finnick wanted to avoid it, he'd have to spend too many hours away from Annie and in the laps of the Capitol's elite.

He screamed because even though he won, even though he was supposed to be free, he was chained to the Arena for the rest of his life.

Heavy feet dragged Finnick to the window. The ocean glittered from the sun as the waves gently beat against the sand. A tiny figure with dark hair was sitting at the end of his dock. Annie. Annie. She was at the ocean by herself.

With glassy eyes, Finnick smiled. She was at the ocean by herself. It was a small step, but it was a step she had taken and Finnick was swollen with pride. Nearly at a dead sprint, Finnick headed for Annie. He wanted to congratulate her, to encourage-

Finnick stopped himself at the beginning of the dock. He wanted to _be_ with her.

Slowly, feet lighter, not wanting to startle the fragile peace Annie had, Finnick closed the distance between them and sat next to her. She was staring blankly, eyes past their world and into her Arena. He knew the look and knew the disassociation between Four and the Arena. Slowly, Finnick wrapped his arms around Annie. He buried his face in her dark hair and relished the feeling of her skin against his. She didn't protest. She didn't hesitate. Annie, her small body and all, melted against his chest.

Without her realizing it, he melted into her as well. Finnick was completely hers. Did she know? Did she realize how he cared and if he could get even a half smile, he felt his entire existence was validated?

Could he tell her?

**So, I'm back. I didn't want to do anything else longer than this-just enough to move closer to the Victory Tour.**


End file.
